


Trace of Her

by actiaslunaris (VesperRegina)



Category: Galileo (Japan TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 14:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30040149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VesperRegina/pseuds/actiaslunaris
Summary: "...traces of people are left in many shapes and forms."
Relationships: Utsumi Kaoru/Yukawa Manabu
Comments: 5
Kudos: 4





	Trace of Her

**Author's Note:**

> Summary is a line of dialogue from S01E08.

Yukawa returns from lecture one morning to find a brown elastic hoop front and center on the stage of a pile of books on his desk. When he picks it up, Kuribayashi says, "I dropped my pen under the desk and when I went to retrieve it, I found that. It's Ms. Utsumi's, right?"

Kuribayashi shifts his attention to the screen of his computer, uninterested. "You should try to return it, next time you see her."

Yukawa nods, holding the hair tie between his forefinger and thumb, bringing it closer. It has gathered a tight coil of strands of Utsumi's hair over the fiber that wraps the rubber inside. He examines, but does not touch it.

He moves to place it back on the stack of books and reconsiders, as the inconstant nature of the resources of his lab would probably lead to the tiny object being lost again. Instead, he places it by the desk lamp and returns to work himself.

Two weeks later, Utsumi is no longer in Japan and the hair tie is still beside his lamp. Yukawa places the book he's just closed on his desk, it leaving his hand slow enough to not even leave a sound, as he catches sight of this remainder of Utsumi's presence. He reaches for it, his almost inaudible sigh a response to a duty unfulfilled, and one not much possible to accomplish soon without explanation.

It is not an urgent matter to have been taken care of, never was. Utsumi, without a doubt, will not feel the lack of this one item of toiletry.

His hand hovers, with the hair tie, over his trash container for a long moment of indecision, until he comes to the conclusion that the action would be a complete waste of a still useful object. He pulls out a drawer and drops the hair tie within. It will be safe there.

It stays safe, and forgotten, and a few months after his return from Hariguara, he's searching for index cards at the back of the drawer when his fingertips brush across the bristly texture of it. He withdraws his hand, startled, and pulls the drawer out as far as he can. He brings his head down close, to see what shocked his touch with its unexpectedness, and blinks, and then shocks himself further by whispering Utsumi's name.

He's alone, but he still looks up, glancing around the lab before he drags the hair tie out, shaking a few paperclips off it, and places it on the blotter of his desk. He considers it, the knuckles of his left hand pressed to his mouth. Twice lost now and twice found. Still no closer to being returned.

He lowers his hand, covering the hair tie with his palm; presses down to feel the soft circle of it. It's been waiting all this time. It will only get lost again. He lifts his hand, the side still pressed to the desk.

It has not changed with the passage of time, still as it was, and this is to be expected, since it has been preserved without his notice, this trace of her. That's only as it should be; logical.

He did once admonish her about being observant to all traces left by people and she had taken it with an easy grace. Here he is with an evidence of her in his life, a trace of her physical presence there. Minimal but obvious.

He fits his fingers into the circle, lifts, encouraging the elastic to creep past down his knuckles, so that it slips around his wrist. When it will not go down further without help, he uses the surface of the desk to roll it down, until it settles above his watch, above the bony jut of his wrist.

It rests there, tight against his skin, this trace of her. He covers it with his right hand for a moment, then tugs his sleeve over it to hide it. It is not an urgent matter, after all, to return it to her. He will wait.


End file.
